


The Curse of the Ordinary

by edensgarden



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Season 2 alternate ending for Seijoh, So yeah..., and he got better, but i wrote this piece way before the manga ended, this is just to heal my own heart because i love oikawa and he deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edensgarden/pseuds/edensgarden
Summary: Everyone has a thing they are innately good at, that comes to them as naturally as breathing.Unfortunately for Oikawa Tōru, that thing was not volleyball.Inspired bythis masterpiece of a video that perfectly captures the essence of his character.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 122





	The Curse of the Ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> For the ultimate feels while reading this, listen to [this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hIeKxS5VAw)
> 
> Alright, listen up:  
> Oikawa Tōru is a character that has immensely grown on me.  
> When he was first introduced, he was nothing more than a pretty guy, who was good at volleyball and even better at trash-talking. But the more we got to know about him, the more I watched and read about him, I started seeing him for who he truly is. The small nuanced bits to his personality, the struggles and hurdles he had to overcome to be where he is now, the sacrifices he has made; I don't think there's a character in the entire series, who is as relatable and likable as Oikawa is. He's easily one of my favorite characters out of the entire show and I was so thrilled to see what Furudate made out of him in the end. I conclusion, I love Oikawa Tōru with all of my heart and will forever be his number one fan, cheering him on and rooting for him no matter what.  
> Thanks for coming to my TED talk. <3

It was a day like any other.

School had ended and the boys were gearing up in the locker room, slowly getting ready for another evening filled with practice. After their crushing defeat against Karasuno, they had jumped right back into training, quickly accepting their fate and the consequences that came along with it.

Much to everybody’s surprise, the third years had refused to retire and stayed in the team. They wanted to spend their last months in high school playing together with their team, making each practice and each game count.

As much as their teachers and parents had disagreed and tried to turn the steering wheel to the other direction, their feet had continued to press stubbornly on the gas pedal, insisting that this was what they wanted; this was what would make them happy.

There was no denying the pain and regret that flooded the third years after their loss. They had faced despair right in the eye – like looking down a stormy cliff and realizing with a startling clarity _that there was no end in sight_ – so they took a step back in unison, grounding their bodies deep into the soiled earth, allowing the weeds to root around their ankles.

Allowing the guilt to swallow them would result to nothing.

He knew.

He knew that the only way to not get a repeat of this tragedy would be to work even harder.

And work hard he did.

He worked as much as his schedules allowed, pouring blood, sweat and tears and all of the effort he could possibly find within himself into his body, bringing forth the image of a certain raven-haired first year.

It didn’t dull the aching hole in his chest the slightest. The hole that was filled with the grim reminder that no matter how much he ran towards his goal, there would always be someone who would be much faster than him.

There was no denying the unfairness of it all – but when had life ever been fair to Oikawa Tōru?

He had learned to roll with the punches, rip the self-destroying thoughts apart with the bare strength of his calloused fingers and go forward with his head held high.

Despite the ridiculous pressure on his chest preventing him from breathing.

In spite of all his fears and terrors.

“Oi, oi, oi, “ Matsukawa pulled the setter out of his thoughts and back into the locker room, “Would ya look at that?”

He flipped the magazine in his hand, stretching out his arm to show them the page he was reading. His lips curled into a dorky grin, “Someone doesn’t seem to be too fond of Prettykawa.”

“Hm?” Oikawa raised a curious brow, leaning forward to scan the title of the article his friend was holding out to them.

“ _’The Curse of the Ordinary’_ ” Iwaizumi read aloud, a frown distorting his handsome features, “What the hell kind of shitty article is that?!”

“Wow. Didn’t know volleyball magazines were out to hate on teenage players.” said Hanamaki.

The first years looked positively perplexed – their captain was one of the best players of their prefecture after all.

“Maybe it’s just one of those clickbait headliners that make you want to read the article?” Kindaichi asked.

“What does it say? Have you read it yet, Matsukawa-san?” Kunimi slipped into his shirt, turning his head towards the third year.

“Nah. Whoever wrote this, wrote a whole ass novel. Can’t be bothered with it- “

“Gimme that.” Oikawa snatched the piece of paper from his hands eagerly, his coffee-colored eyes blown wide in curiosity.

“Wait, Shittykawa, it’s probably some piece of shit, who has nothing better to do than pick a fight with minors, just leave this crappy article- “ Iwaizumi started, but stopped when the other held a hand towards his face.

“ _’Oikawa Tōru’_ “ Oikawa read the first lines of the article, his forehead wrinkling in suspicion, “ _’Feared for his powerful and accurate jump serve; known for his exceptional skill to make full use of his teammates, he has made a name for himself in the prefecture as one of the best all-around players in his age range.’_ ”

“Uh what?” Hanamaki frowned, “That’s a weird way to start a- “

“ _’Highly intelligent and attractive, he’s revered by everyone around him – his juniors and seniors alike. He has proven time and again what a capable leader he is, bringing out the greatest assets of his teammates in each tournament. There’s not a single game that isn’t thrilling to watch, not a single match that hasn’t got you on the edge of your seat, chewing at your nails, because of the amazing wonders his skill produces.’_ ”

“I… am thoroughly confused right now.” Kindaichi stated, receiving nods from the guys around him.

But Oikawa wasn’t listening. He was lost in the sea of words in front of him, his heart pounding against his ribcage aggressively.

“ _’Oikawa Tōru is one of the most complex volleyball players of Miyagi – he’s wildly popular outside of his volleyball skills, harboring his own personal fan club; teaching the kids in his neighborhood the basics of volleyball; playing with the elderly from his community for fun’s sake. He has natural charm and charisma – but the truth is that every light has a shadow. The brighter the fire burns, the darker the ashes that remain.’_ ”

He dropped to the bench soundlessly, his chest suddenly aching at the hidden meaning between the lines. The others were oddly quiet, for the first time listening to him with full attention, their ears waiting for more.

“ _’Oikawa Tōru is competitive, nasty, snide and bitter whenever the term ‘genius’ is mentioned. He’s cunning, using his sharp observational skills to influence his opponents in the middle of a game to turn it to his favor. He’s incredibly insecure and jealous of any up and coming volleyball player, as showcased by countless interviews in which he gave childishly taunting remarks whenever asked about the first year setter Kageyama Tobio from Karasuno or the third year ace Wakatoshi Ushijima from Shiratorizawa.’_ ”

His nose scrunched in distaste at having his weaknesses published like this, a slow rage simmering in the pit of his stomach and if Iwaizumi’s almost inaudible grunt was anything to go by, his best friend seemed to be feeling the same way.

“ _’However it’s this envy that shows us the truth behind the pretty face and the camera-ready smile: that Oikawa Tōru is just a young boy with a flaming passion for volleyball. It’s no secret that the third year setter has an insane training schedule, patiently honing his skill to become the greatest in what he does, despite the chilling reality that there is no such thing as ‘the Greatest’. Given his dislike for the term ‘genius’, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he doesn’t consider himself part of this group.’_ ”

“Maybe we should just get back to practice?” Watari asked insecurely, not liking the direction this article was taking. He eyed his captain cautiously, concern washing over him when he noticed that his hands were shaking.

But Oikawa still wasn’t listening. He was fully submerged in the sea, his lungs drowning from the jabs, when he was forced to be faced with the harsh reality that someone out there had seen right through him.

“ _’Rationally speaking, Oikawa Tōru should be unbeatable at volleyball: he’s tall and lithe, has long limbs, is highly athletic and has the brains to accurately assess his opponents’ play. He has immense emotional control and is able to stay composed, even during the most pressuring moments in a match. However, every single skill Oikawa Tōru possesses, is one that he has had to work hard for. Because unlike other people, who have ‘a thing’ they are innately good at, Oikawa Tōru’s ‘thing’ doesn’t seem to lie in volleyball.’_ ”

He felt the tightening of his heart, as if someone had taken a string and wrapped it around, pulling at it painfully until he felt like exploding in a firework of insecurity and disappointment.

“ _’There is probably no other volleyball player in his age range that has spent the amount of time, effort and dedication into polishing his skill like Oikawa Tōru has. In fact, there is no one else known in the industry, who is as respected in his field as Oikawa Tōru is. This ‘Curse of the Ordinary’ is a self-proclaiming prophecy.’_ ”

_Huh? What are they talking about?_

Oikawa stilled, taking a minute to let the words sink in as he took a deep breath. His teammates around him faded as he fell into the dark ocean that was his mind. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute as suddenly everything he had been taught was called into question.

“Oi, Oikawa, are you okay?” asked Iwaizumi, genuine concern lacing not only his voice, but also his otherwise stern features.

He lifted the magazine once again, absentmindedly registering the wetness of his eyes as he continued reading, “ _’There’s no such thing as ‘born winners’ or ‘geniuses’. Without effort, there is no victory. It’s about using what’s already in your arsenal to your advantage and striving to find ways to gradually fill up that arsenal as you go. It’s about standing up over and over and over again, even if you are stepped on, like stubborn weeds that grow into beautiful and strong trees. And Oikawa Tōru has more than proven himself to be a hard-working player.’_ ”

The next lines suddenly seemed blurry, his vision mushing together as he felt wetness sliding down his cheeks, the gasps of his teammates breaking through the silence, “ _’And I am confident when I say that Oikawa Tōru’s volleyball hasn’t ended – despite their defeat against Karasuno. He’s not done, not by any means. In fact, I dare even say that his volleyball hasn’t even started yet. And I am ecstatic to see what comes in the future; what kind of volleyball he will present to us. Whatever it may be, I will be right there, as I always have been, watching right from the sidelines and cheering him on. So don’t you dare disappoint us, Oikawa Tōru – we are rooting for you. Rule the court!’_ ”

It’s only when he felt the comforting hands of Iwaizumi press into his shoulder that he realized he was crying. The crumpled magazine in his hands was doused in his tears, his stomach convulsing with a weird sensation. A mixture of dread and relief grabbed him by the throat, constricting his airway at the thought of other people reading this article.

His perfectly constructed mask had been ripped from his face, revealing the countless scars and shadows dancing across his features, showcasing him for who he truly was.

Yet he was feeling oddly calm the more he let reality settle in. His skin erupted in goosebumps, a chill mingling with the blood in his veins as he slowly calmed down. His teammates were right there with him, riding the wave of emotions together.

Their expectant faces were all set on him, ready to help should he need the support. Even Kyōtani, who was otherwise uninterested in these affairs, was uncharacteristically quiet.

“I can’t believe it.” Oikawa chuckled through his tears, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes, “ _Curse of the Ordinary_ , huh?”

“How do you even respond to that?” Hanamaki asked, for the first time not cracking a joke at his captain, but rather gifting him the most compassion one could expect from the third year.

“I’ve certainly never read an article like this from this magazine before.” said Matsukawa.

“Who’s the writer?” asked Iwaizumi, his hand never leaving Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Dunno. It’s a new pen name. I’ve never read it in this magazine before. Must be a new writer.”

“Sure gotta have balls to publish an article like that if you’re new.”

“Well, they’re not wrong.” Oikawa lifted his head to face his friends, his tears dried on his slightly flushed cheeks, “They completely saw through me.” A small smile darted through his features, lighting up his face in that handsome way that got all of his fangirls squealing, “Not gonna lie, I would love to meet the brains behind this.”

When no one responded to his wishes, he took a deep breath and sighed out loud. With a crack of his neck, he raised himself from the bench and squared his shoulders.

“You heard it guys. My volleyball isn’t done yet, and neither is yours. So let’s get practicing.”

ღღღ

Later that evening the third years locked the club room and walked towards the station with lazy steps, the article from earlier somewhere in the back of their minds as they discussed what to get for dinner.

Oikawa, however, couldn't seem to forget about the flow of words that had made it past his iron gate and into his heart, weaving their way into each crevice like the earthy roots of a colorful flower bed.

He couldn’t think about anything else but the person, who had taken every single self-deprecating thought he had about himself and pulled it apart like a machine, cutting through the connecting wires to wrap it around soothing words of their own.

Like the comfortingly cooling wind on a hot summer day, the genuine feelings of the writer had reached him on a level even he was surprised to admit. When he felt like letting go and falling down the cliff of desperation, their fingers had wrapped around his wrist in a vice-like grip, refusing to let go.

The mysterious writer had managed to flip a switch in his brain. They had filled his heart with compassion and hope; they had reignited the flickering flame in his core with their unyielding belief in him.

_There’s no such thing as ‘born winners’ or ‘geniuses’._

He snorted inaudibly, his face blossoming into an early spring of relief. With his mind busy thinking about this person, he was blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place with his friends.

He kept his head low with the magazine in his hand, even as they passed a girl walking by them; even as her airy-light voice exchanged greetings with Iwaizumi; even when her glimmering eyes focused a second longer on the article in his hand, a beautiful explosion of crimson erupting on her cheeks; even when her glossy lips curled into a fond and relieved smile, her eyes closing in contentment as they passed her.

She turned back one last time, her gaze lingering on the retreating figure of the boy, who had not only captured her interest, but also her heart.

_‘Whatever it may be, I will be right here, as I always have been, watching right from the sidelines and cheering you on.’_


End file.
